Broken Strings
by A Caddoan Boy's Girl
Summary: Max invites a strange girl to stay with her and the flock at their home in Denver. But her mysterious past will shock them all. And her relations to a certain avian hybrid might change their lives forever. /No Dylan /Post saving the world
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride and all related characters and themes. I do own Josie and this plot.**

Goodbye, good riddance. I don't need the fricking foster house. I'm fine on my own.

Walking down the streets of Denver, I realized the truth: I have nowhere to go. The home was the only place I've ever known. No one has ever adopted me. Apparently I'm a "troubled youth" and it would be "a risk" to have me up for adoption. Losers. But then again, I've got my guitar. I'll see if I can try and play a few shows at a bar or something. Yeah. That could work.

**Oh, how I love the mysteriousness of it all…Hoped you liked it!!! And now on to Chapter 1… **

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	2. Chapter 1: Climbing

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride and all related characters and themes. I do own Josie and this plot.**

**JOSIE P.O.V.**

I never knew that you really could hitch-hike from Scottsdale to Denver. It kind of reminds me of that Forrest Gump guy where he just keeps running and running and doesn't stop.

I don't know why I wound up in Denver. I couldn't tell you if you asked. The old lady at the diner said that she was visiting her daughter in Colorado, and I asked for a ride. Truth be told, I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do while I'm here. I suppose they'll be looking for me by now. Of course, they'd have no idea why I'd be In Denver, either.

I'd always thought that places in the mountains would be nice places to live. I mean, you've got snow and stuff like that, so it must be pretty magical. But in reality, being cold sucks. All I've got is a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt in Denver in the middle of January. I could practically feel my blood congealing in my veins. I used to live in _Arizona_ for crying out loud.

But when it isn't freaking six degrees, I can imagine that this really could be a tolerable place to live. The people here are nice. There are lots of buildings and stores and things. Denver gives you that thrill about being in the city. The bright lights. The sounds of sirens, car horns, and chatter linger in the air. The feeling of purpose.

I've never really had a purpose. My job was always to get up, get the other kids dressed, go to school, do homework, and cook dinner. Every day. I've never had any of the other opportunities that other kids have. They could go to movies with friends, go bowling and whatnot. But I couldn't. I had no money. Because I lived in an orphanage. My guitar isn't even really _mine_. I found it up in the attic of the home and Greta said I could keep it if I wanted.

I'm not even a _foster_ _kid_. Whoever was in charge of all of it decided that I was too old to be adopted or even schlepped from house to house every few months. No. If I hadn't left I would be permanently stuck in that place for the next _two_ _years_. I couldn't handle another minute.

So here I am, wandering down Moran Street looking in thrift shops and passing by sweet-smelling bakeries. On the other side of the street were some stores and a café advertising the "World's Best Biscotti" with a blue and red neon sign. The pinks, blues, and oranges of the setting sun were casting rays of light into the nooks and crannies of alleyways and corners. It was the kind of thing you would see in a painting.

I've always liked art, in any form. Paintings, sculptures, music, poetry. It doesn't matter. Art was the only thing that kept me going in school. All of my electives were always Art 3-D, Guitar II, Lyrical Composition I. But it isn't like I can say it runs in my family, because I'm not sure that it does. And I'll never know. My father was dead, my twin brother died before we were born, and my teenage mom put me up for adoption. I'm a lucky girl, right?

It was dark enough for the street lights to come on, so it must be at least dinner time. I haven't eaten since last night, but I've learned to go without. I was planning on finding a homeless shelter or something when I caught a shadow out of the corner of my eye.

"Well, hey there pretty lady," said a voice in the darkness to my left. Oh, great. Just what I need. A bunch of yahoos who've nothing better to do than harass teenagers in the middle of the street.

A man about my height stepped out of the shadows, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He had yellow, decaying teeth and matted hair to his shoulders.

"Why don't you come roll with the big boys, sugar," said Head Yahoo's wingman. All three men blocked the sidewalk in front of me. They were all raggedly clothed with the smell of cheap beer in a cloud around them. The way they were standing reminded me of those AT&T commercials. "Raising the bar", and all that.

"Jerks," I said under my breath as I skirted their blockade.

"Well, hey now, we don't want the cause any trouble," said Head Yahoo. Their greasy, twisted faces told me otherwise. The biggest one reached out and grabbed my arm with an iron grip. It wasn't very likely that I would be able to take down all three of them, but I was sure going to try.

Just as I swung my guitar case around to hit the bigger one behind the knees, Head Yahoo fell to the ground. There, beating up the other two, was a blonde-haired girl. She was probably around my age.

If I learned one useful thing from watching way too many pay per view movies, it was how to beat someone up. The big one made another move to grab me around the waist and I flipped him over my shoulder and kicked him where the sun don't shine.

The other girl already had the Head Yahoo begging for mercy, and Wingman had run for it. She had him in a headlock on the ground. His nose was gushing scarlet blood, both of his eyes were a sickening purple-green, and his leg bent out at a creepy angle. All I've managed to do is knock Big Guy unconscious from hitting his head on the concrete.

"What do you want to do with them?" she asked, fully composed and not even slightly out of breath. I didn't know what I wanted to do. I hoped they weren't dead because then we'd have a big deal on our hands. But I didn't want to call 911 because that would probably involve talking to cops, and I wasn't planning on going back.

"Um…let's just tell a shopkeeper that they were fighting each other," I suggested. It sounded more like a question.

"Fine with me," she said as she pulled her hair into a ponytail and kicked Head Yahoo over.

"I'm Max, by the way," she said.

"Josie."

We began to walk back towards the café with the "World's Best Biscotti".

"Pretty name."

"Thanks."

I stole another look at the girl. She looked average. Tall and slender with medium length blonde hair. She wasn't slender like a twig girl, but it was more of an athletic, toned look. I wonder what sports you play when you live in the mountains. Skiing, I guess. She also had expensive-looking jeans and a wind breaker that I would love to have at this moment.

I don't really know why she was still with me. I mean, I should hope that someone around here would help someone being attacked, but I never knew that people were really this nice. She must be one awesome martial artist or something to be able to take a guy down like that.

We approached the café and stepped inside. The little bell on the door rang its tell-tale jingle.

"Um, down the street there were some guys fighting. We think they might have hurt each other, and we don't have our cells. Could you call 911?" Max said to the balding, middle-aged man behind the counter.

"Sure, sure. We wouldn't want anyone to be without a doctor. Not in America, no?" said the man. He had a thick Italian accent, and his nametag said "Gustavo".

"Of course not," said Max. She had a steely glare, and her teeth were clenched tight.

We walked out of the café to a pitch-black street. It was nearly eight, and the street lights were out.

"I swear, they need to have more people managing these things," Max said as she gestured at the poles. "I mean, I know this is a bad part of town, but they could at least change a few bulbs now and then."

"Yeah," I didn't really have an opinion on the matter.

"You haven't said a whole lot," she said. "Is something wrong?" She had a look of concern on her face, but nothing more than utter curiosity. It was strange, having people care about me and my feelings for once. I wasn't sure that I liked it.

"Nothing's wrong. I just don't have a lot to say."

And it was true. Everything seems to go on in my head and then people are confused when I think they know what I'm thinking.

"Whatever," said Max. It didn't surprise me that she didn't really care about anything that wasn't directly related to her. Most other teenagers are the same.

Silence passed between us, but neither of us seemed to mind. It was a quiet night with owls hooting in the distance and music flowing out of bars and clubs. We walked until we passed the two men, lying on the ground. We crossed to the other side of the street.

"So, do you know if there's any shelters around here?" I was talking to the sidewalk, and my voice was barely a whisper. I was surprised that she had heard me.

"Yeah, there's one over on Prince Avenue. Why do you need a place to stay? You can stay at my place if you want to. There's plenty of space." She looked like she honestly wanted to help. It was kind of nice.

"I'm fine. I'll swing by the shelter and grab some food. Then I'll find a bench to crash on, or something," I said. I didn't like admitting that I was homeless and poor. I hated when people felt sorry for me. Like they need to get together a Pity Party and cry over my lack of financial status.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Max.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said. "I'll just go find that shelter. Maybe hit up a bar and see if I can play a gig or something." I gently shook my guitar case, nervous that I might actually play in front of people.

"Oh. Alright. I guess I'll see you," she said as she waved and turned to leave.

"Bye."

I whispered this last word as she disappeared into the foggy night.

**So, there it is! The first chapter of **_**Broken Strings. **_**I finished it at 1:03 AM this morning so I hope you all liked it! **

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	3. Chapter 2: Craft

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride and all related characters and themes. I do own Josie and this plot.**

**JOSIE P.O.V.**

Deep breath. The stage lights were glaring at me. Daring me to mess up a chord or sing a wrong note. But I wouldn't. I couldn't.

The stage has always been my friend. I've wanted to sing for an audience ever since I was a little girl at the home. I watched the girls in the chorus at school and always wanted to be like them. I wanted people to see that there was more to me than the loner orphan girl who had no friends. When I sing, I don't feel like that orphan girl. I'm not her. I'm Josie Caras.

So up here on this stage in Denver, Colorado, in a little 18-and-under club, I sing my heart out. The house lights go down and I play the first note.

I don't know how a girl

could be so lucky as to know you.

I feel like you've completed

the other half of me.

I've never known this part of love.

The dark clouds part, see the sky above.

And just to think this really could be true.

I used to think that the world was always grey.

But now,

CHORUS:

I see the light begin to shine.

Through the dark and through

the night. I can't believe I've gone

so long without someone to clear my mind.

The other things, they seem so small

compared to anything at all.

So through the dark that is my life

You shine.

Just thinking of you

Gets me through the hard times.

I've never been this happy before

In this life.

Everything that you say,

Everything that you do.

The highlight of my day

Is just getting to see you.

I've never felt this way about any one at all.

But now,

CHORUS

It's like God has seen me here,

All alone and filled with fear.

He's brought you into my life,

So you could be here with me tonight.

The light begins to shine,

Everything just feels so right.

When I'm with you I can't believe

That this could even happen to me.

**MAX P.O.V.**

It was such a beautiful song. I hadn't known that she really was an amazing singer. She was so beautiful and confident when she was on stage. Fang gazed at her in awe. I wasn't worried that he was going to jump on stage and confess his love for her. He was mine anyway.

Josie walked off stage, and I turned to Fang.

"She's the girl I was telling you about. The one who was attacked this afternoon," I said. His face had a look of surprise and suspicion.

"And she's playing a show only hours later. Don't you think she should be traumatized by that?" he asked.

"I don't know. She seems stable from what I know of her. Took down one of the guys. I got the other, and the third bailed on his buddies. She's more of a loner, I think. Kind of like you," I said with a knowing smile. He gave a little nod, which was all I could ask for. "You know, now that I think about it, the two of you seem to have a lot in common. Not to mention you look alike."

"I guess so," said Fang, staring at the empty stage. He was off in his own little world. He wasn't going to be much help.

"You know, she plays gigs for money. Whatever she could get. Before I left her she asked if there was a homeless shelter around here. She's got no place to stay, Fang. I offered her a room at our place, but she wouldn't accept. I don't want to leave her alone. I know you can help me, Fang," I pleaded. I tried Nudge's puppy dog eyes, but it doesn't work when I do it.

"What made you so compassionate all of a sudden? Where's the Maximum Ride who sucked it up when things got tough?" he asked, a skeptical look on his face.

"Because of what happened to us. It hardened me up, but it also made me realize how much it sucks not sleeping in the same place every night." I said. "Please, Fang?"

"Alright, let's go," he said, knowing that he wouldn't leave a girl stranded, either.

"Thank you," I said as I pecked his lips and turned to head backstage.

We walked down a short, narrow hallway and came to a big, bald man guarding a steel door. He was head to toe in black and had a thick mustache that curled at the ends.

"Um, hi. We were wondering if we could get back to talk to a girl named Josie?" I said. It came out more like I was asking a question.

A steely voice came from behind us, "I'm a girl named Josie."

I turned around to face the spiteful, rebellious girl. She was wearing the same outfit that she had that afternoon, but her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail instead of it hanging loose.

"Hi, Josie. Remember me?" I asked.

"Um, is this the part where you tell me that we're long lost sisters?" she asked with a sarcastic tone in her voice. The snide remark was complete with an eye roll.

"Uh, no. It's me, Max. From earlier?" I hoped she remembered me. It was only a few hours ago.

"Oh, right. Sorry," she said, all spite gone from her speech. She moved her arms from folded in front of her chest to hanging limp at her side. "What do you want?"

"Well, I was wondering if we could talk somewhere more private. If that's possible," I said carefully. I didn't want to piss her off.

"Sure. Follow me," she said as she scooted past us and through the steel door. Fang and I followed.

We came to an area with the typical dressing room appeal. The mirror with the light bulbs. Wide couches and boxes of clothes everywhere. The walls were a deep scarlet and glowed with the light of the bare bulbs. Josie plopped down on a couch and motioned for us to do the same.

"Jordi, the chick that owns this place, said that I could crash here for a few days because it's the off season. She doesn't get many kids around here because they're all at the lodges. So, what can I do you for?" she asked expectantly.

"Actually, Josie, we want to do you a favor," I looked at Fang and expected him to back me up. Nothing.

"Who? You and Emo Boy?" she said as her eyebrows showed her dislike.

"Don't call me emo, dammit," threatened Fang.

"Oh, a little touchy, now aren't we?" she mocked. She turned away and grabbed a carton with leftover fried rice in it. "Anyway. Thanks, but no thanks. I've got all I need."

"Do you?" I asked incredulously. I turned to Fang. "Hey, can you give us a sec?"

"Sure," he said. He gave Josie a sarcastic salute as he walked out the door. I turned back to Josie.

"Listen, I know we probably got off on the wrong foot. But, I know how you feel. Scared. Alone. Like you can't trust anyone for the fear of being betrayed. My friends and I were homeless, too, you know. For a very long time. You might have heard this on the news, but we fought a company called Itex. They were doing experiments with DNA, and we were their prized possessions. We got out, but they wanted us back. We were on the run. Sleeping in abandoned tunnels and on park benches. It was bad," I said. As I told her our story, her face softened and she pulled her hair down and was staring at the floor.

"Hmm, yeah. But at least you had each other," mumbled Josie.

"Yeah, we did. And if it weren't for all of them I would have gone insane. But things got better. My mom helped me put a down payment on a house just a few minutes away. It's in the mountains so we can fly around whenever–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up. Did you say _fly_?" she asked, astounded. Her eyebrows were practically up to her hairline and her entire being was in shock.

"Yeah, I said we were experiments, right? Well, we're mutant avian hybrids," I said, a little too nonchalantly for the occasion. I pulled off my windbreaker and stretched my wings. They were sore from being scrunched up all day. Even though the whole world knew about us, I didn't want to be harassed all day.

My wings are beautiful, if I must say so myself. They are mostly cream-colored with brown splotches all over them. But, mine aren't as beautiful as Fang's. His are black. Just black. So black that they almost seem purple in the sun.

I looked at Josie as she stared in awe at my wings. She made a move, almost like she wanted to touch them, but pulled her hand away.

"It's okay. You can touch them if you want. I don't bite," I said with a joking smile. She returned my smile and stroked my feathers.

"So, you'll stay with us? At least for a while?" I asked. I hoped that she wouldn't turn me down this time.

"I guess so," she said reluctantly. She began to look for her other shoe which she found behind the musty couch. I grabbed her guitar from its stand in the corner and got her case from the coffee table.

"Here," I said, handing her her things. I watched as she gingerly took her precious guitar and laid it safely in its case.

"You really don't have to do this, you know," she said with wary eyes. She wanted a place to stay, but didn't want to accept help.

"I know. We want to."

"Again with the 'we' thing. Hate to break it to you, but it seems like your lover boy out there doesn't like me too much," she said.

"Well, he can just suck it up."

We looked at each other and smiled. Just like two teenage girls who should be having a sleepover and talking about boys.

I really didn't know Josie, but she seemed like she needed us. Someone to be her friend.

I just hope she likes kids.

**So there you have it! ¡Capítulo numero tres! (Chapter number three!)**

**I've written and posted three chapters in two days! **

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**You know I can't do it without you! Anything you like? Hate? **_**REALLY**_** hate? Review! **

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	4. Chapter 3: New

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride and all related characters and themes. I do own Josie and this plot.**

**JOSIE P.O.V.**

It was dark. Probably around eleven. We pulled up to Max's house in the mountains. It was very large, with balconies and lots of French doors. Doors that longed to be opened, so that birds could fly in and sweep you off of your feet.

Fang was driving with Max in the passenger seat, leaving just me and the backseat. I'll admit it. I'm nervous. I'm going to be living with a bunch of people that I don't know. But I couldn't back out now, because we were pulling into the garage.

"You can have the guest room on the second floor, okay?" asked Max.

"Yeah, that's fine. Thanks," I replied.

"No problem. There's plenty of space. I swear, we have, like, four extra rooms," she said.

What kind of people had this much money? I mean, sure, they probably got most of it from the government, but still. And how many other kids were there when they had _four_ extra rooms?

We slowed to a stop and Max and Fang got out of the car. There was nothing in the garage but a few bikes and a coat rack. Thank God they weren't the outdoorsy type.

I followed Max into the house, when we came to a mudroom. I expected to see shoes and jackets that belonged to teenagers, like Uggs or Vans, and sweatshirts. Instead I saw a G.I. Joe backpack, a purse with the Jonas Brothers on it, and pink and white sparkly Skechers. Max had said 'friends'. She hadn't said that her 'friends' were _eight_!

"Sorry about the mess. They aren't usually this unorganized," said Max.

"Oh, no. It's okay. I'm used to messy," I said. Taking care of ten other kids ranging from ages one to twelve wasn't a picnic.

"Okay, well, the kids are at a friend's house for the night so you'll meet them in the morning. Um, I'll show you to your room, then. I'm sure you're tired," said Max. I usually don't judge people, but Max didn't seem like the hospitable type. That probably made her feel awkward.

"Oh, you don't have to show me. I'll find my way. Spare room upstairs, right?" I clarified.

"Um, yes. You sure?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I assured her. I picked up my bag and guitar from where Fang hang put them on the floor and made my way to the large staircase near the door.

"Okay, then. Goodnight," said Max. She shifted from side to side. I could understand, though. This was just as awkward for me as it was for her.

"Goodnight," I replied.

"'Night," said Fang. And we all parted ways. I went upstairs, Fang moved towards the computer room off of the kitchen, and Max drifted near the back porch.

It had taken me this long to get accustomed to the sheer size of the estate. It looked like the ground floor consisted of the kitchen, computer room, living room, a bathroom, and dining room. On the second floor were five bedrooms, each with their own bathroom. I would have to wait until tomorrow to check out the rest.

I reached the top of the staircase and came to an open room. It was circular, with doors arranged like spokes on a wheel. Four of the doors stood ajar. Just peeking inside, not intruding, I could see that one of the rooms was pure white. Everything in the room was white. Strange. You would think that someone would want _some_ color.

The next room had purple walls with posters of Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber all over. There were clothes sprawled all over the floor, tossed haphazardly from the closet.

Then, I came to a room with baby pink walls. Everything was pink. The walls, the sheets, the furniture, and the curtains. There was a gauzy canopy enveloping the full-sized bed and the mountain of Beanie Babies and other stuffed animals.

Now to the final open room. I could already tell that I was coming to a young boy's room. The smell alone gave it away. I will never understand what boys have against taking a shower. The walls were a plain white, but the comforter was a potent camouflage, and there were G.I. Joes left stranded on the floor.

I knew that the next room I came upon would temporarily belong to me. I was terrified. Not of the actual room, of course, but of the sentimental value of it all. I have never had a room or space to myself. Something that I could call my own. I slowly approached the closed door with caution. I dropped my bag to the floor and reached for the brass doorknob.

It looked like a stereotypical guestroom, I suppose. With a whicker bed frame and furniture. The sheets were navy. There was a flat screen mounted on the wall and a chaise in the corner. But across the room from the chaise were beautiful French doors leading to a balcony. I got my own French doors.

I threw my bag and guitar case on the bed and ran to the doors. Wrenching open the delicate handles, I stepped out onto the balcony.

It was beautiful. From my vantage point I could see the mountains in the distance and the city lights. You could never get a view like this in Arizona. Nature and the modern world. Morphed together into a beautiful picture for the world to see.

I left my secret escape to get ready for bed. There wasn't much to do. I changed from my jeans to a pair of old sweatpants and crawled into bed. My bed.

~NINE HOURS LATER~

"MAAAAAAXX!!! GAZZY TOOK MY BARBIE!"

What the hell?! Who is screaming at the top of their lungs at nine in the morning? Startled by the sudden wake-up call, I fell out of bed and landed with a thunderous _thump_ on the polished wood floor.

"Whoa, what was that?" said a young girl's voice. It came from one of the other rooms on this floor.

"I told you guys that we have a guest. And for Pete's sake, Gaz, give Angel back her Barbie," I heard Max say. So apparently Max is in charge of this place.

There was a tempting aroma of eggs and bacon wafting up the stairs, but I wasn't quite ready to face the rest of them yet. I picked myself off of the floor and made my way to the coffee table the held my guitar case.

I picked him up. Yes, my guitar is a 'he'. Most ships and planes and things are girls, but no. Aiden is definitely a boy guitar. I began to play some warm-up chords and phrases, when all went silent below. I knew they heard me playing, but it didn't really bother me to know that they were listening.

I was working on a new song that I had started the day before. It was about how I could only rely on myself, and what God has given me. I know that I'm in a real crappy situation, but something good always comes from the struggles.

I tried to play a minor chord that I just could not get right when there was a soft knock at my door. A little girl with blonde hair and blues eyes poked her head in the doorway. She looked nervous. Almost scared. I wasn't scary, was I?

"Hi, what's your name?" I asked the small girl. Her room must have been the pink one.

"Angel," she responded. Her voice was very soft, but sure.

"Angel. That's a pretty name," I said with a smile. I didn't want to frighten her. She wasn't like the kids at the home. She didn't seem loud and obnoxious. I heard pounding feet against the hardwood floor.

"ANGEL?!" yelled a young boy. "Max said that you have to leave her alone!"

The boy said this last thing as he came into the room behind Angel.

"Oh, um. Hi," said the boy. He was out of breath and shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

"Hi," I knew this must be the boy from the camouflage room.

"Josie, this is my brother, Gazzy," said Angel.

Gazzy? Is that really a name? I guess it could be a nickname for a boy, but only if he had a first name, like, Gaspard or something.

"Well, his name is really the Gasman, but we shortened it," Angel said with a surprising amount of casualty. Who on Earth would name their child the _Gasman_? And how did she know that I thought that 'Gazzy' wasn't a real name?

"I can read minds," she said. WHAT? If I hadn't seen her say it, I wouldn't have believed it. Did she just say that she could _read_ _minds? _

"Yes, I can. And I can breathe underwater, and control people's minds, and–"

Gazzy's hand covered her mouth as she continued to tell me all the other extraterrestrial and incredible things that she could do. I know I should be surprised, but I'm really not. I've gotten used to weird (with the wings and all), so the fact that she could read minds and such was not an earth-shattering shock.

"Angel, you're not allowed to tell her!" whispered Gazzy to his little sister.

"She already knows. Max told her about the wings last night," said Angel as she defended herself.

"Oh," said Gazzy, his voice tinged with embarrassment. He pulled his hand from Angel's face and stuffed both hands into the pockets of his jeans. He stared at the floor.

"It's okay, Gazzy," I said. I didn't want him to be embarrassed.

"Are you going to come downstairs, Josie?" Angel asked. There was innocence in her eyes that could not be refused. I was a sucker for a sweet face and puppy-dog eyes.

"Yeah, I'll be right down," I promised.

Angel giggled with joy and grabbed Gazzy's hand. She pulled him into the hall and down the stairs.

I think that it's a little amusing how people think of me as this rebel bitch girl who doesn't give a damn as to anything that happens around her. I'm not like that. Yeah, I have a temper, and I easily get pissed off and violent. But kids are my Achilles Heel. My weak spot. Just from growing up in the home, I see what other people don't see. Kids whose parents didn't want them or were too poor to raise them. Parents who abused and neglected their own children. I was one of those kids. And just now, with Gazzy and Angel, I saw them as those kids, too. I didn't even know them, and I already loved them. Just from what they've gone through.

Just as I promised, I put my guitar away and closed my door on the way downstairs. I wasn't afraid of being hated or anything. I could care less. But I didn't want to get kicked out or anything. I don't think that I could leave Gazzy and Angel. I just had to say the right things and be nice. Here goes nothing.

I came down the stairs and into the living room. No one was there but I could hear typing from the computer room and chatter and giggles from the kitchen.

"No, Max! You put the chocolate chips in _after_ you mix it. If you put them in before then they get all crushed and un-chocolate chip-like," said a guy's voice. It didn't sound like Fang. There must be some other guy living here.

I turn the corner into the large, luxurious kitchen. The shining appliances gleamed by the light of the open window. There were dozens of open drawers and cabinets, overflowing with cups and plates. In the middle of the seemingly peaceful kitchen was a mound of flour. There were chocolate chips rolling on the floor and a loud shriek pierced the air.

"Ha! Nudge, your hair looks like it is drowning!" pestered an amused Gasman. Even I couldn't help but snicker. Gazzy had taken the nozzle of the sink and turned it on the African-American girl standing in shock, drenched in tap water.

"Gazzy! What did you do that for?" asked the girl. She had dark skin and hair with lighter highlights in it. Her eyes were a smooth chocolaty brown. This must be the girl with the purple room.

"Oh, Gazzy. Why did you do that?" questioned Max with annoyance. She was at the counter with a mixing spoon and an apron. Beside her was another teenage boy with strawberry blonde hair and pale blue eyes. He was very tall. He was looking at the girl with a smirk on her face, but he wasn't quite seeing her…

"Iggy's blind, Josie," said Angel. She was washing her hands at the sink when Gazzy had turned the hose on Nudge.

Angel had been the first to speak to me, seeing as everyone was focused on the African-American girl. All eyes turned to me as I understood what Angel meant about the boy being blind.

"Um, hi. I'm Iggy," he said as he introduced himself. He walked in front of me and held out his hand, only a few inches off center.

"Hi. Josie," I said as we shook hands. "But I guess you already knew that."

"Hm, yeah," he said, his voice tinged with nervousness. He retreated back to the mixing bowl, trying to salvage whatever destruction Max had created.

There was a slight awkwardness in the air as we stood there, no one knowing what to say. Gazzy had left the room in a huff after being scolded by Max. Iggy and Angel were working with the cookie dough, and I assumed that Fang was in the computer room. He didn't seem like one to be into baking.

"So, um, did you sleep well, Josie?" asked Max, trying to relieve some of the tension. I could tell that she was trying.

"Yeah, it was great. Thanks," I said gratefully. I was grateful. It was one of the best nights that I've had in a long time.

No one knew what to say. What _do_ you say to a weird girl who's now living in your upstairs guest room? It was awkward for all of us.

"Okay, well, there's cereal in the pantry, or I can make you something else, like, pancakes," offered Iggy. He was still concentrating of saving the cookies, but he was holding another conversation with me. I was sure that Max had already told him all about me.

"Um, I'll just have cereal. Thanks," I said. I moved myself out of the way so that Angel could put the raw cookies into the preheated oven.

I still didn't understand why Iggy was allowed in the kitchen. The guy was blind. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but you would think that something would break or get caught on fire. With the extreme precision and accuracy of his actions, you would never know that he was blind. He was so sure of himself.

"Iggy is just like that," Angel explained. "He's gone almost his whole life being blind."

"Oh," I said monotonously.

"Hey, no pity party for the blind guy," Iggy joked with a broad smile on his face. He guided the cookie tray onto the rack in the oven.

The cookies were in the oven and Angel was now jumping up and down, wanting Iggy to play tag with her. He reluctantly agreed. After a quick look at me, hoping I wouldn't notice, he removed his apron and chased Angel into the backyard.

"Sometimes I wonder if everything really affected them," whispered Max from behind me. Her sorrowful smile was a giveaway to how she was feeling.

"I'm sure they've been affected. The rest of their lives are so different than what they would have been," I assured her.

Max must feel like she is to blame for what happened to them. She isn't. Their capture and torture could never have been helped.

"Yes, but they seem so happy. It isn't like they can just put aside what happened and get over it like that," she said. "Can they?"

"I don't know. I'm sure they all think about it at times. You also have to remember that they are children. Iggy probably has more trouble with it than the rest of them because he's older. But in their minds, it isn't such a setback. They don't worry and fret about things the way that we do. Their minds are distracted with cookies and playing, so they don't have the time or energy to dwell on the bad things. You were forced to grow up and be responsible so quickly, that you had to worry about things like capture. They didn't. So I'm sure that it affected them, but maybe not as severely. At least, that's what my psychology teacher would say," I explained.

"Hm, yeah. Maybe," she agreed. It was a partial agreement. She wasn't sold on the issue, but she wasn't going to debate it further. She strode to the sliding glass door and disappeared into the sky.

I really had nothing to do. After a few minutes of just wandering around the house, I decided to finish my song. While climbing up the stairs, I thought of the kids that lived here.

There was Max, of course. She seemed to be the indubitable leader. She was confident and stable when surrounded by her flock, but all of that bottled up emotion was waiting to break loose. Then there was Fang. There really isn't much to think about. He's quiet and invisible. Like, you know that he's there but you can't prove it. He kind of reminds me of myself. We were both "emo" if you want to think about it that way. And Nudge. She seemed like such a spunky preteen. Gazzy was like any other boy, really. Cute, but obnoxious at the same time. He is so much like Luke. Luke was my favorite out of the other kids at the home. He was an eleven-year-old misfit who loved pranks and dirt. And sweet little Angel. She was so innocent and adorable. It's unjust the way that they were treated.

Iggy. I don't really know what to make of him. He is clearly capable of taking care of himself. No one ever offered to help him, because he didn't need it. If Max was the leader, then Iggy was the caretaker. He was closer to Angel, Gazzy, and Nudge than Max and Fang. Maybe because he connects on a level with them that Max and Fang just can't reach. The patience that he has and the careful purposefulness of every single action is astounding. I could tell that he appreciates life. That every day should be lived to its fullest. Because it could all be gone before you know it.

**I'm going to start by saying that I am SO SORRY! I know some of you have been waiting for this chapter. I've had so much schoolwork and band practice and Odyssey of the Mind and Glee Club and Latin Club that all I did at home was sleep! But I've been working on this chapter! It's a total of EIGHT pages on Word so I hope this will keep you happy until the weekend!**

**REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!**


	5. Chapter 4: Intrigue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride and all related characters and themes. I do own Josie and this plot.**

**IGGY P.O.V.**

I can't believe that Max had done this to us. Letting someone that isn't in the flock stay in our house? I had thought that it was suicidal. Who would want to stay in a house run by bird kids?

That was until I met her. Max had said that she invited "a girl" to stay with us. She hadn't mentioned that it would be another teenage girl. I don't mind now, though. Josie is a nice person. I don't know how Fang reacted, though. That would have been interesting to see.

In the kitchen, I began to prepare tonight's dinner for Josie and the Flock. Spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread. I pulled the economy-size bag of pasta from the pantry and thought of Josie.

She had a nice voice. It was soft and quiet like drizzling rain. Her skin was olive. That much I could tell from her touch. She was uneasy in our house. She was cautious of us. Like she didn't know how to act. I should talk to her and let her know that she could behave however she wanted.

She had kept to herself for the past few days. Staying in her room, practicing her guitar. Occasionally, she would play hide-and-seek with Angel, Gazzy, and Nudge. I guess she liked kids. She had given Nudge a makeover this morning. Nudge said I could feel her face to "see" her new look, as long as I didn't smudge her eyeliner.

She's intriguing, that much I know. The way she radiated kindness. You couldn't tell from the outside. If you only looked at her, you might see just another teenage girl. But, she was caring, kind, thoughtful, funny, and playful. Whenever they wanted, she would be out in the back yard playing with Gazzy and Angel. Whether they were just playing tag or assaulting each other with squirt guns, she always knew how to brighten up their day.

I liked that. It might be good for the kids, having another girl around. Max was an amazing leader and provider, but Josie is able to connect on a level with the kids that I can't even comprehend. She must remember what it was like to be a kid.

Childhood. That was something that we missed out on. Instead of playing on the playground at school, we were scrambling through the streets of New York and fighting for food whenever we could. There were no sleepovers or pool parties. No ice cream from the ice cream man during hot summers or being proud in school when you finished your presentation on polar bears.

Only the pure terror of being captured and returned to the School.

As I let the pasta boil on the stove and move towards the pantry to retrieve the garlic, I heard Josie wrestle Gazzy to the ground. Angel then proceeded to jump on her back and demands that they have hot dogs for dinner. I could hear their conversation from my spot near the open window over the sink.

"That sounds like a good idea, Angel, but Iggy's already making spaghetti for you guys," Josie said, calmly. I rested my hands on the edges of the sink and smiled. The way she said my name was amazing. Her voice was sweet.

If only I could know what she looked like. What kind of mouth formed those words? What kinds of expressions found their way onto her face? To be able to _see_ her, in my way, would be priceless.

"Josie, Iggy wants to see you!" yelled Angel to a frozen Josie, in the middle of a game of Freeze Tag.

_Angel, why did you do that?!, _I thought.

_You said that you wanted to see her_, she replied in my head. Her mind was so innocent that I didn't tell her why that would be inappropriate. Because, to "see" someone, I have to touch them. I know what the entire Flock looks like, from healing the many scrapes and scratches (and worse) that we've had over our lifetimes. I wasn't going to ask Josie to let me touch her, just so I could know what she looked like.

"What do you mean, Angel?" asked Josie. She sounded closer this time.

"It's nothing, Josie," I told her. "Angel's just saying things."

_Don't fight me on this, Angel_, I thought.

_Okay_, she pouted. Why did I have a feeling that she has an ulterior motive?

I was pulled from the window and thoughts about a scheming Angel by the boiling tomato sauce, burning on the stove. Damn. Those were my last tomatoes. Just then, I did something that I hoped that I would never have to do for the rest of my life: canned pasta sauce. But there were no more tomatoes and that was all that there was in the cabinet.

As I warmed the sauce and added it to the massive bowl of spaghetti, I listened to the thrilled screams of playful children outside.

I wonder if Josie knows what she's giving to Angel and Gazzy. The chance to relive the life that they could have had. I wonder if she knows that what she has brought to this flock will change all of our lives forever.

**There you go! One more chapter to keep you busy! I'm so sorry it took so long. I had difficulty changing my perspective from Josie's mind to Iggy's. You don't know how many times I had to reread what I wrote to catch all the mentions of "seeing". I swear, there were, like, six times where I had put "I **_**saw**_** Angel blah blah blah…". But, there won't be that many P.O.V. changes anymore, so I should be up to my regular speed!**

**Don't forget to check out our local band, YugoSKAvia, and vote for them in Ernie Ball Battle of the Bands 14 to be a part of Warped Tour in Orlando at **

**http:// www. battle of the bands .com/ yugoskavia!!!**

**P.S. Don't forget to remove the extra spaces!! **


	6. Chapter 5: Familiar

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride and all related characters and themes. I do own Josie and this plot.**

**Josie P.O.V.**

The Flock and I were sitting around the table, eating dinner, when Gazzy asked if we could go to Blockbuster and get a movie for tonight.

"Can we, Max? Please?" he asked. "I really want to see Transformers 2."

"Yeah, Max. Pretty please with sugar, sprinkles, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and—" Nudge began to say until Fang's hand covered her mouth. "A cherry on top?" she mumbled through Fang's hand.

"Sure, you guys. The guys can get a movie and the girls can get a movie," Max answered, as she collected the dishes and brought them to the sink before beginning to load the dishwasher.

"Josie, what movie do you want to get?" asked Angel with her clear, blue eyes smiling up at me.

"I can't watch a movie with you guys tonight," I said, reluctantly, as I watched Angel's smile fade.

"But, _why_?" she pouted. I felt terrible now that I had broken this little girl's heart.

"Because my friend needs me to play at her club tonight," I explained. "I promise we'll get another movie sometime this week and it'll be just you and me. Okay?"

"Mhm." She nodded as she turned away.

"Oh, now, Angel. Don't cry," I said as I moved to hug her. "I'm not leaving. I'll only be gone for a few hours and then I'll be back. Okay?" I tried to fight the strange urge to laugh at how this little girl could be so upset.

"Okay," she sniffled. She turned back to me and strung her little arms around my waist.

"It's okay, baby. Don't cry," I comforted as I rubbed her back and the space between her wings. I've seen Fang do the same to Max when she's stressed or upset. I looked at the clock on the microwave, and I saw that it read 6:30 PM. I would have to leave soon, because the walk alone took half an hour. "I have to leave now, but when I get back you'll already be in bed. So, I'll see you tomorrow morning, alright?"

She nodded her head and released me from her grip.

"Josie, you can take the car if you need to," Max offered before I went upstairs.

"Oh, that's okay. I never got my license, anyway," I replied. I made my way up the stairs and to my room. I quickly changed into a fresh, navy tank top that I had bought with the hundred dollars that Jordi had paid me. I refused Max's offer to buy clothes with her money.

I packed Aiden in his case, bounded down the stairs, said goodbye to the Flock, and strode out the front door.

Walking down the sidewalk, towards town, I realized just how lucky I was. I had money in my pocket, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head. I owed Max and the Flock so much. All of a sudden, I heard a set of wings flapping behind me. I turn to see Fang coming my way.

He touched down ten feet from me and walked in my direction.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. He was supposed to be going to Blockbuster with Max and the kids.

"I wasn't going to let you walk five miles by yourself," Fang said. "Not after what happened last time." His voice darkened, and he seemed protective. Of me? "And I wasn't going to miss a chance to watch you play. Since, we only get to hear you from up in your room,"

So, we began to walk and Fang took a spot on my right.

"So, what are you going to play tonight?" asked Fang. I was surprised that he would take interest in my music.

"I don't know," I said. "Whatever I feel like, really."

"So, you write your own music?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered. No one had ever really taken an interest in me. No one ever asked how I feel or what I think. No one has ever cared. It was nice to know that someone was watching out for me. I've always worried about the other kids, so I had no one to worry about me.

For the rest of our walk, Fang and I talked mostly about music. Favorite bands, concert's he's been to with Iggy, and how I learned to play the guitar.

"So, you just, sort of, taught yourself?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. I had gotten my guitar when I was thirteen and I hadn't been taught by anyone until my freshman year of high school in Guitar I. Before then, I entertained myself my learning easy songs by ear, like "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and "Mary Had a Little Lamb".

We reached the club and I said goodbye to Fang and made my way towards the bar. Niki and Rachel, the bartenders, were the only friends I had besides Jordi and the Flock. I've been working at this club for a few weeks, off and on, and at the second show I played, they came backstage at closing time to say that they loved my music. It was something, at least, to hear that you were good, from people that heard music every night.

"Hey, girlie! Ready to play?" said Rachel. She was petite and blonde. She was just a little fun-sized ball of energy that loved people.

"I suppose I have to be," I said, a bit reluctantly. Even after playing five shows, the stage still made me uneasy.

"Don't worry, chickadee. You'll do wonderfully, just like always," comforted Niki. Niki was the opposite of Rachel. She was tall and statuesque, with short, spiky brown hair with strips of blonde and purple in it.

I got a paper and pen from behind the bar and moved my way back to the dressing room. Sitting on a couch, trying to come up with a set list, the fear began to set in. Knowing that Fang was in the crowd, watching, didn't help. I wasn't attracted to Fang in the slightest, but knowing that someone I knew would see me perform was a whole new ballpark for me.

After ten minutes of staring at a blank sheet of paper, Patrick, the bouncer, came in to tell me that I needed to be on stage to set up. Here goes nothing…

**I am SO SORRY! I should of updated way earlier but my Internet broke. Sad times. **

**I tried to use my neighbor's connection but then they caught me. So, I only have nine days of school left (yay!). I'll be able to update way more often because then I can write into the wee hours of the morning and I won't have to worry about school at 6 AM the next morning. Expect a new chapter next weekend!**


	7. Chapter 6: Marvel

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride and all related characters and themes. I do own Josie and this plot.**

**Josie P.O.V.**

Finishing my show with an acoustic version of "If You Can't Hang" by Sleeping With Sirens, I take a bow and turn offstage. Making his way towards me was Fang with the tell-tale sarcastic smirk on his face.

"Why do you insist on playing in your room?" he questioned with a serious expression. "That was good."

"Yeah. Sure," I replied with a sarcastic snort.

"Whatever," he said.

I began to walk backstage, and Fang followed. We came to the big steel door, and Patrick made a move to grab Fang.

"It's okay, Patrick. He's with me."

**MAX P.O.V.**

"Maaaxxxxx! I don't want to go to bed!" insisted Gazzy. He was continuing the tantrum that had begun with the running of the bathtub. He was almost thirteen, but when needed, he acted as though he were six.

"I don't care what you _want_ to do. I let you stay up another hour after bedtime to finish the movie, but now you have to sleep. So help me, if you say one more word you're not going paintballing with Iggy and Fang tomorrow," I threatened. By the terrified look on his face and the fact that he ran to his room and jumped into bed, I could tell that I wouldn't hear another peep out of him until morning.

"Hey, Max? Did Josie or Fang say when they were going to be home?" Iggy nervously called from his bathroom.

"Um, no, they didn't. I don't think it can be too much longer," I checked the clock in the hallway. "It's already eleven-thirty," I replied. The truth was, I was just as worried as Iggy was. Her shows had never lasted this long. She was usually back by ten.

**JOSIE P.O.V.**

Through quiet laughter and a mouth full of ramen, I asked Fang what time it was.

"Around 11:45," he said.

"Ah, shit. We were supposed to be back over an hour ago," I cursed. I tossed my cup of ramen in the trash, and Fang did the same. I gathered my case and loose picks and slammed my feet into my shoes. Fang grabbed his leather jacket from the peg on the wall and we made our way to the bar through the long, narrow hallway.

"Hey, Rach, can I get my pay for the night?" I called as I hopped up on a stool.

"Sure, babe," she replied from down the bar, "just give me a sec."

Even if it was an 18-and-under club, teenagers still get antsy when you don't serve them their drinks fast enough. Rachel was trying to cover serving eight teens, while Nik was out in storage. The situation was getting out of control. Yelling, pushing, loud music. Out of the blue, a drink came flying towards my face. It lost momentum and instead ended up soaking the front of my shirt with Coca-Cola.

"Shit," I muttered. The sticky drink began to seep through my shirt and tank top. Fang quickly pulled his black V-neck over his head and handed it in my direction.

"Ugh, thanks," I said. "I'll be right back."

"Nah, I'll come with you."

**FANG P.O.V.**

I followed Josie back into the dressing room. She made her way to the mirror and peeled her sticky shirt off of her body. I may be a teenage guy, but there was nothing stirring about having her stand ten feet from me in only her bra and pants. There was a sort of elegance about the way her spine curved perfectly into the back of her jeans and how her skin stretched taught over her hips.

My gaze moved up her body, but then stopped when my eyes reached her shoulder and neck. Normally hidden by her long dark brown hair and shirt was an angry, jagged scar running from the nape of her neck to between her shoulder blades.

"Not many people have seen it," she stated softly. "I don't know where I got it but it's been there ever since I can remember." She pulled my shirt over her head and turned around to face me.

"We should be heading back," I said. "Max is probably flipping."

"Yeah, okay," said Josie. I held the dressing room door open for her and we once again made our way to the bar, then out onto the street.

"Let me carry you," I said as I turned to her. The incredulous look upon her face told me that she didn't understand. "I can carry you, and we can just fly home."

"Um…"

"I won't drop you," I promised.

"You better not," said Josie as she wrapped her arm around my neck and jumped into my arms. I unfurled my dark wings from behind my jacket. They're pretty damn sexy, if I do say so myself. The black feathers shone a deep purple in the light of the street lamps, and they rustled against the light breeze of the night. With one kick off of the ground, I was airborne with Josie against my chest. One of my arms was wrapped around her waist as she faced the ground below, the mountains far below us.

Looking down at the girl underneath me, her hair flying in the wind, I glance again at the scar upon her lower neck and begin to marvel. I marvel at how I could have the same scar, in the same place, as a girl I barely know.

**Oh my gosh, it's been so long! Much, much too long! I hope my readers haven't forgotten about the lovely Josie, and I hope I pick up a few more readers from this chapter. **

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	8. Chapter 7: Trust

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride and all related characters and themes. I do own Josie and this plot.**

**I would just like to begin by responding to Anon's review. Yes, I understand that no one likes a perfect character. What you, however, don't realize is that I have only published 6 (now 7) chapters of this story, so before you go and assume that the main relationship in this is Fang/OC maybe you should stick around to see what actually happens. I appreciate that you took time to put in your thoughts, but remember that most stories on FanFiction are works in progress, and the chapters get published as I finish them. I have outlined this story and, as of this moment, I know exactly where it is headed. So please, just be patient. Thanks!**

**Josie P.O.V. **

Flashes of silver blurred across my line of sight. Sterile, white hallways barricaded me inside. I could feel my heart beating in my little chest, and the slicing feeling on my neck keeping me uncomfortable. Tubes attached to my arms were pumping me full of pain-killers and sedatives.

There was blood. So much blood. It seeped into the fabric covering the gurney and trickled down my shoulder. I could feel another warm body against my back. Bright lights from above restricted my vision, but I caught glimpses of men in coats, looming overhead. Hospital sounds. Shiny objects. Pain.

I shook with a start and landed face-first on hardwood flooring. Hardwood, not tile. I wasn't in a hospital. Realization brought me back to the present, on the floor of the guest room in Max's house.

"Hey, are you okay?" I turned towards the voice originating from the doorway.

"Yeah, Ig. I'm okay," I said. Iggy's profile was outlined by the moonlight streaming in through the open bay window on the other side of the room. His grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, and his pale bare chest contrasted with the dark hallway.

"Okay. You're not the only one who can't sleep. I was going to go make some coffee and sit on the porch for a bit. Care to join?" he asked, his sightless eyes seeming hopeful.

"Sure. I'd love that."

I stumbled up from the floor and followed Iggy down the stairs. The house was dark except for the glow of the moonlight flooding the kitchen through the window. I eased my tired body onto a barstool at the counter and watched as Iggy wordlessly prepared the coffee maker. His deliberate movements were astounding. Each was deliberate and confident, clearly learned habits for the blind teen.

As we waited for the coffee pot to fill, Iggy and I remained in comfortable silence. I was fairly certain that he had heard me startle in my sleep, but whether or not he knew it was a nightmare I had no clue. A small part of me was thankful that Iggy could not see the clammy sweat that had accumulated on my forehead, and I discretely wiped it off on my baggy t-shirt. My head was still hazy and pained from my disturbed sleep, so I let it rest on the cool marble countertop of the kitchen breakfast bar.

"You can go back to sleep," said Iggy, who was leaning on the counter. "I didn't mean to drag you out of bed if you're tired."

"No, I'm okay," I responded. "I just have a headache." This much was true, as the throbbing in my head had worsened.

"Go sit outside. I'll bring you out a mug in a sec," Iggy said.

"No, I'll wait," I insisted.

"Josie. Please,"

"Okay…" I moved reluctantly from my stool towards the front door. Out on the wrap-around porch I noticed six rocking chairs, one for each avian-hybrid. Instead of sitting in a chair, I lowered my body onto the porch swing. My heavy head rested on the chain that kept the swing suspended in the air.

The mountains in the distance rose above the landscape. Their snow-dusted peaks glittered in the late moonlight. Treetops rustled in the night wind as owls soar from branch to branch. My mind was numb, void of all thought as Iggy walked onto the porch and held out a steaming mug of coffee in my direction.

"Thanks," I said as I took it gingerly and reclined. Iggy deftly moved around the arm of the swing to sit on the other side. We sat in silence, enjoying the night.

"I know you had a nightmare," said Iggy after minutes of relaxing. I quietly sipped my warm coffee, only enough to delay my inevitable answer that he was waiting for. "You don't have to explain it. We all get them. You can talk to me, though."

"I know, Ig. Thanks," I replied. I wasn't usually one for talking about my feelings.

My eyes glanced in Iggy's direction and noticed that his eyes were closed. He looked so peaceful, so normal. He could have been any normal 17-year-old boy if it weren't for the absence of light behind his pale blue eyes.

"When I close my eyes, I don't feel blind."

"What?" I asked blankly.

"When I close my eyes, I pretend I'm not blind anymore. The world doesn't seem forever black if I know that my eyes are close."

"Iggy, I didn't–" I started, but he soon cut me off.

"I know you didn't ask. I just felt like telling you. None of the Flock knows that I really still miss it," said Iggy, his eyes now cast downward. His hand was mere inches from mine, and I was overpowered by the instinct to take his in mine. I gently wove my fingers between his as he released his tense energy. There was something heartwarming about Iggy. His soul was so wholesome and pure. This was a nice change, a change I needed.

I am never one for mushy talk of feelings. Romance movies and novels make me want to vomit, but there was nothing insanely mushy about sitting on the porch with Iggy, holding his hand. It was nice. He trusted me with how he felt about his sight, so now it was my turn.

"I did have a nightmare," I said suddenly. My confession seemed to pull him out of a reverie as he turned to face me. "I've been having them forever, but they've gotten worse since I've been here. I don't know why."

"Do you want to tell me what they're about?" Iggy asked. He pulled his long legs up to his chest and sat cross-legged, and I did the same.

"They're always pretty much the same thing," I explained. I placed my mug on the ground below before I continued. "It's always in a hospital," I said, and Iggy tensed at my last word. "There's white everywhere. They weren't that bad until I came here."

"What's different about them now?" Iggy asked.

"The nightmares? They're just…different. Worse," I didn't want to go into specifics with Iggy quite yet. To tell him about the slicing feeling on my neck during the dreams would mean that I would have to tell him about my scar. I don't scare easily, but the one thing that did frighten me was my dreams. I knew they were just dreams, but that doesn't make them any less real. My eyes began to water at the memory of the blood running out of my wound, the bright lights, the burning smell.

"Josie, are you– ?" Iggy began.

"I'm okay," I whispered with a sniffle.

"I know you're not, but…it's okay. I understand," he said. I knew he did understand. Fang had told me about their times on the run. What the Flock had gone through was much worse than a few nightmares, and I knew it was always a sore subject.

"Josie, can I–can I hug you?" asked Iggy, sounding tentative and nervous. I knew his answer by the worried look upon his face.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," I laughed as I scooted over into his arms. Laying on the swing with Iggy, swaying in the light breeze, was the most wonderful thing I have ever experienced. For not quite the first time, I noticed Iggy's lean, muscled body. His wiry arms around my shoulders were oddly comforting, seeing as I was usually the one who comforted others.

Before, I never really put in the effort to notice the male species. I was one of the guys, so I suppose the few guy friends I had never appealed to me. No, I wasn't falling head-over-heels for this bird boy. He had made the effort to show me kindness, and therefore I respect him.

All my life I've had people lie to me and abandon me. It's been a month since I met the Flock, and they've shown me nothing but love. In some books, love equals trust. For me, not quite.

**WOW, that's probably the fastest I've ever updated. I'm so happy that this story is writing itself now because it's just taken off! I know it was a slow start, but I promise you'll find out much more about Josie and Fang's scars, her dreams, and her relationship with the Flock in the coming chapters! Thanks for reading, and REVIEW! **

**Reviews = love and the strength to keep posting  
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